But as the past few months have demonstrated, there is nobody more equipped to jump into action in a crisis than independent artists, a group who’ve become expert at making do with rapidly dwindling resources, turning sawdust into glitter.

This is the second time I’ve been part of a climate emergency. The first was in 2017 when the town of Lismore in Widjabul country in northern New South Wales was hit by catastrophic floods. It was a flood that couldn’t happen.

In the beginning, Godzilla was about us. The monster was made to show the ways in which we fail ourselves and harm each other. 1954’s Gojira, directed by Ishirō Honda for Toho studio, was the first in a franchise spanning more than 30 films. Gojira famously drew on Japan's recent experiences of nuclear horror: the city-destroying, unfathomable monstrosity of Nagasaki and Hiroshima.

The thing is, I’m not really sad any more. I’m angry. And the role of anger is so often missing from these discussions of climate grief. Why is that?